


How to Flirt with a Naked Werewolf

by Crejhov



Category: Captain America (Movies), The Avengers (Marvel Movies), Thor (Movies)
Genre: Alternate Universe, Darcy Lewis is Tony Stark's Daughter, Enemies to Lovers, F/M, Marking, Mating, Werewolves, hippie mother
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-04-05
Updated: 2018-04-05
Packaged: 2019-04-18 17:35:23
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,558
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14218224
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Crejhov/pseuds/Crejhov
Summary: When a naked man shows up on your doorstep with a bear trap clamped around his ankle, its best to just do what he asks.





	How to Flirt with a Naked Werewolf

**Author's Note:**

> So this is based off a book I read fairly recently titled How to Flirt with a Naked Werewolf. And as I was reading it I couldn't help but think that the main love interest could easily be replaced with Bucky and Darcy. So here we are. Obviously, I've replaced all the characters and I've had to trim and replace some of the storylines. In any case, I hope you enjoy!

The tiny town of Grungy, Alaska came into view as Darcy’s pick-up truck chugged over the last rise in the highway. Mr. Selvig, the town’s only attorney and who was also handling her rental to what he referred as the “Pym Place”, had described Grundy as a charming village. It was shocking to see the entire town at once. There was a long main drag of shops with a few streets branching off to support a few dozen one-story houses. Mr. Selvig had told her that most Grundy residents, which would soon include her, lived in isolated homes in the fifty or so square miles that surrounded the town limits.

Grundy gave an impression of some old western town as Darcy drove down Main Street. Big brick buildings built for the harsh Northern winters all huddled together in two long rows on either side. Probably in an effort to save on building materials and so as to heat the buildings efficiently. The Mountains looked like they began where the town ended and would cast a long shadow that would blanket the entire town every morning.

Darcy found a parking space in front of Ross Grocery Store. There were few pedestrians on the street, sturdy-looking people of all shapes and colors in light jackets. And they were staring. She suddenly felt self-conscious about the trailer, as if she were advertising that she was a new arrival. She gave them a smile that was not returned and began the two block walk to Mr. Selvig’s office.

The air was thick with the scent of rain and pine. And hamburgers. It had been a long time since that pitiful gas station breakfast burrito in Crowley. Darcy eyed the saloon down and across the street that called itself the Bifrost Saloon and promised herself to stop in for some dinner if she had time. This was a time for small, personal celebrations, such as double bacon, lettuce, pickle, and tomato. And maybe some onion rings.

Erik Selvig was a friendly older man with a thinning hairline and a pleasant smile. He’d been waiting at his office for her despite the late hour, with paperwork for her rental. He was a one-man welcome wagon, wrapping a grandfatherly arm around her shoulders as he led her into his office. The room was paneled in warm, cherry-colored wood, with Mr. Selvig’s degrees and awards nailed to every available square inch of wall that wasn’t occupied by travel photos of himself. Darcy noticed that a couple of the degrees that hung on the wall had nothing to do with the law.

Apparently, the new fluffy jacket Darcy had bought that looked super cute on her wasn’t exactly as warm in Alaska as it had been in Virginia. As it turned out, an Alaskan summer was about as chilly as a mild Virginian winter. And apparently, it was very obvious to Mr. Selvig, or Doctor as some of his degrees stated, who plied her with offers of tea and hot cocoa, even whiskey, to help her warm up while they signed the lease. He seemed extremely pleased with himself as he watched Darcy sign along the dotted line, locking her into a one-year lease.

“I hope you’re happy here in Grundy, Ms. Lewis.” He said, smiling beatifically. Darcy gave Mr. Selvig a smile. “And I’m sure you’ll get a warm welcome,” he added. “It’s not every day that a pretty, unattached woman moves into town. I know a couple of young men—nice, good-looking men—who would be very happy to meet you.”

Darcy’s smile froze. She had come to Alaska as an escape from relationships, romantic and otherwise. There was a part of her that preened at the thought of a couple of big, rugged mountain-men climbing over each other to introduce themselves. “Are you a matchmaker as well as an attorney?”

Mr. Selvig’s lips twitched. “I do what I can to help continue the town’s population. So far I’ve had a fairly decent track record.” There was a lit to the end of his not-so-subtle boast that hinted at an accent. But it was so slight and unfamiliar that Darcy wouldn’t be able to place it. “Sometimes, people need a nudge.”

“Have you always lived here?” She asked, no need to give him encouragement to nudge her.

Mr. Selvig turned and pointed to a series of pictures framed on his wall. “I lived in Norway until I left for school at Oxford. I wasn’t always an attorney you see, once upon a time I was a Theoretical Astrophysicist.”

He pointed to a picture of himself and another man in front of a blackboard that was covered in all manners of equations. “An old colleague of mine in San Francisco recommended I come out here to finish a paper I was having trouble writing. Well, one thing lead to another and I wrote three more papers, realized I’d been here three years and I didn’t really want to leave.” Mr. Selvig made an and-here-I-am gesture.

Darcy’s eyes followed along the wall of photographs, starting with a young Mr. Selvig on a university campus through the years until she got to the photograph where he stood proudly before the building they stood in now. It must have been the day he officially opened his doors to do business. “So when did you become an attorney?”

“Ah, yes, well, the town was in sore need of one, the closest being over two hours away.” He mentioned, waving it off as though getting the schooling for it was just a simple little thing hardly worth mentioning. “It was the least I could do for Grundy, and really, it doesn’t take up a lot of my time.” Mr. Selvig chuckled then, in on some joke that she wasn’t.

“Well, we’re set here, “Mr. Selvig said, giving the papers an official-looking stamp and returning them to his files.

For one wild moment, Darcy wondered if she could snatch them back. Was she making a huge mistake? Had she overreacted? Was she strong enough to start again so far from home? It was so cold here and it would only get colder, what was she going to do if she got snowed in? How reliable was the cell coverage?

As subtle as she could, she took a deep breath and held it in an effort to calm herself down.

She could do it. She had to. The alternative was a fate worse than death.

Mr. Selvig handed Darcy the key to her new home and plopped a fuzzy, knit hat on his head. “I’ll help you get checked in at the motel.”

“Actually, I’d hoped I could just settle right into the house,” She told him.

He blanched. “Well, Darcy, I’m not sure if it’s going to be ready yet. Hank Pym had rented the cabin out as a weekend place for hunting groups and the like up until now. We just had a party of fly-fishermen checkout yesterday morning. You may want to wait a day or two to let the place, er, air out.”

“After such a long drive, I’d really like to avoid another motel. I don’t mind if it’s a little messy. I just don’t want to face another polyester comforter.”

Mr. Selvig smiled wanly. “If you say so…”

She should have stuck with the polyester comforter.

As charming and picturesque as the cabin was on the outside, the inside was a disaster. Darcy’s new home looked like a condemned frat house. The first thing she saw was that the tidy little living room she’d seen online was strewn with empty Doritos bags and dirty clothes. The furniture—sturdy, durable pieces—was tossed around the room, as if there’d been an impromptu wrestling tournament in front of the old slate fireplace. There was a whimsical installation of beer tabs hanging from the light fixture over the kitchen table.

And the whole house smelled like dead fish.

Mr. Selvig seemed embarrassed but not particularly surprised. A faint blush spread across his leathery cheeks as he apologized. “Agnus, the cleaning girl, was supposed to come by and give the place a once-over after she finished her shift at the motel. But I guess she hasn’t made it over here yet,” he said, flicking a pair of mildewed Fruit of the Looms out through the open front door with his foot. By the steadiness of his gaze, she could tell he hoped she wouldn’t notice the movement.

“Tell her not to bother,” Darcy said, her smile fixed. This was not what she had pictured doing tonight. Well, maybe in her worst-case scenario she pictured some cleaning. But even in that contingency, she hadn’t pictured so much dead salmon. Or the sheer volume of discarded tighty-whities.

Panic flashed in Mr. Selvig’s eyes, and Darcy found herself wanting to tamp it down. She could do this. The cabin wasn’t a lost cause. Once you looked past the mess—and the smell—it was really very cozy.

“I’ll clean it myself,” She amended.

Instantly reassured, Mr. Selvig showed her the rest of the house, all four rooms of it. He offered to help her unload a few boxes from the truck, but she refused, noting how dark it was getting.

Mr. Selvig winked at her as he climbed into his truck. “Welcome home, Darcy.”


End file.
